


Nostros and Algos, Or, Return Home and Pain

by CampionSayn



Category: Spider-Man (Ultimateverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, i have no idea who tops, mention of the girls, there will be blood - Freeform, there will be the two boys being adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2307053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>redteamm: “there is no ganke x miles fanfiction and that is the reason i have no hope in humanity.” Challenge ACCEPTED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nostros and Algos, Or, Return Home and Pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redteamm](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=redteamm).



> Dedication: redteamm for grabbing my attention with exactly one sentence in the Ultimate Spiderman tumblr forums. Not to say there weren't others, but the one sentence was supremely aggressive and come on, how could I not take that notion down assassin ninja style? It needs to be done so I might as well tie myself to the ship and drop that anchor in the bay.
> 
> And PS: This was incredibly difficult to write—these two are freaking precious babies and I feel like I've ruined some of their innocence here.

_-:-_  
If I were tiny... I would sleep in your pocket.  
-Fukari.

* * *

  
_Nostalgia_ ~  
  
_There are side-effects to becoming close to a superhero that nobody else much knows about, except for who is higher up the superhero ladder. There are obvious things like lack of sleep from worrying and studying to help things along to keep the hero safe; getting too thin or fat from eating because of stress_ _ **(coffee had been a large part of the loss of body mass over the years that made some more attractive, but often brought along problems in getting jitters that cycled slightly less obvious, but more irritating problems by degrees)**_ _and poor eyesight and hearing from keeping cop hacked broadcasts turned on a radio or the TV permanently set to the twenty-four hour news.  
  
Another side-effect that could come up and bite the worrier and the worried-over-persons on the ass was the assumption that bad things could only happen to the hero.  
  
The universe likes to keep the scales of good and bad on an even keel, it is just its nature, so Ganke Lee tried not to take it too personally when, one evening after college, briskly walking from the grocery store with one __**(toned, he had finally gotten muscles, but not like a body builder)**_ _arm clutching at a paper bag full of dark brown eggs, fresh ground coffee beans that were almost too expensive but worth every penny for the added hours of being awake they provided with just one cup, store made cookies that old women could turn into fancy pins but he and Miles simply ate by the handful; he happened upon something not terribly unusual in New York, but unwelcome all the same.  
  
A pair of drug dealers hanging out on a stoop and hassling a pair of teen girls that were quite possibly the poster children for jail-bait; one dealer grabbing at the smaller girl and shouting something at her in monosyllables which roughly figured altogether into, 'Come. Now.'  
  
Ganke sighed quietly as he entered the seen, unnoticed, __**'C'mon man, don't do this...'**_ _  
  
The other man was reaching into his jacket and would have pulled out a gun, possibly to aim it at the other girl who was trying to run away and get help, if only he hadn't been interrupted_ _ **(let it never be said that Ganke wasn't a decent person and didn't try to do what he talked Miles into doing all too often)**_ _in the act by a soft not-quite-cardboard carton sailing through the air and bursting its bounty into his face. Shattered shells decorated his expression and jacket and shoes, sticking to him in places with the yolk that spilled out._  
  
The girl that had started running paused just long enough to soak in the image before her friend smacked the the man that wasn't decorated for a drunken Christmas rum fest gone wrong and bolted after her, the both of them crossing a street over before Ganke started to move himself and noticed that the grabby handed jackass also had something hard and L-shaped inside his jacket.  
  
Now, memory is a funny thing. He should have remembered that he just entered the street corner and should have been able to hide behind a large redbrick residence that doubled as a studio painter's office. He should have remembered that there was a small collection of silver trash cans and bikes locked to an iron gate. But he didn't. His foot got caught on a chain tied to the biggest bike and he jolted just a little when something that sounded like a 1980's Camaro backfiring into itself and then outwards into black smog and coal colors and then it felt like a sledgehammer carried by the Hulk hit home between his shoulder blades.  
  
The taste of blood trickled over Ganke's tongue and he vaguely thought he said, “Huh...” before he didn't quite feel like he was in his own body when he hit the pavement, half-crushing the rest of the food in his grocery bag.

* * *

  
_Forward_ ~  
  
Ganke had won $500 for completing that ship he had been working on in white and teal Legos for almost a year and he really hadn't been aware of the check in his hand _(he'd been standing with it for who knew how long, the other two letters offering up a deal for joining gym for six months and the other one Miles's bank statements from the month before stating that, no, he hadn't had his identity stolen, but would he like buffers put up just in case, maybe,)_ until Miles had come through the door with their evening's dinner, a triple topping pizza with their preferred tastes of pepperoni, Canadian bacon and their attempt to try new things with some weird Irish side topping that looked like green and white fungus; in one arm and an party-sized Pepsi in the other. Spider-Man's secret ID wouldn't allow Ganke to carry them up the stairs to their shared apartment _(either because Ganke had a habit of dropping things marching the ten flights up or because Miles worried about Ganke straining the scar tissue just healing along his back and chest)_.  
  
Then and _only_ then did Ganke realize he had won something for his talent. His talent that nobody else seemed to acknowledge was of much use except for his best friend who delighted in it nearly as much as Ganke himself did.  
  
(“Who cares if we're over eighteen—you've enjoyed it this long, who says it can't keep going for, like, ever?”)  
  
And really, the building of that particular ship was not his cup of tea. He had only gotten into it to begin with because he'd found a half crushed flier detailing what to do on the subway after a post-op transsexual with a pink dye job poked a hole through it with her six inch stiletto and sent an entrance fee of twenty bucks for a Legos challenge. He'd partaken in it because it seemed like it could be a form of meditation between college and keeping Miles up to snuff in the hero gig and he'd actually almost _hated_ it. Making Titanic had been wonderful and and much more detailed and something from the past to learn about and remind him not to ignore things that could be important, but the QE2 was all about glamour and honeymooning and bright lights—blah, blah, blah. Miles told him it could be good for him.  
  
And in his palm was proof.

* * *

  
_Nostalgia_ ~  
  
_The luminescent lighting that makes everything slightly blue-white, above Miles's head, made his ears twitch with the buzzing they emitted; small and unnoticeable to other people, but to him like triple-sized moths stuck inside a glass jar battering themselves to death in search of oxygen and fire.  
  
He sighed into the instant soup-in-a-cup he'd bought before he'd heard about Ganke being in the hospital by Gwen and Mary Jane who found out about it in that same mysterious way that they found out about a lot of things before Miles. The inside of the cup absorbed his breathing and coughed back his sigh with the smell of cooling cheesy potato and bacon, which made his nose crinkle.  
  
An hour ago the doctors had brought Ganke back from being naked on the slab as they worked on him to keep him from dying and he hadn't woken up. All of the nurses that kept coming through said it was normal for him to still be sleeping, all the sedatives in his system had to run the course and burn themselves out, be patient--  
  
“If this is what it feels like to be in your shoes, man, forget it. You ever have to feel this way waiting around for news about me, you can smack me upside the head, 'cause that's exactly what I'm gonna do when you wake up,” the darker teen muttered in what he hoped was assertive so that maybe Ganke could perceive how freaked out his best friend was through osmosis, “Playing hero with no back-up and just your groceries man—really?!”  
  
The cup of soup landed with a thud at the bottom of the waste basket in the corner and Miles didn't even turn around, intent on speaking his mind to the person who made his webs __**(who stayed up with him in the early days to study for tests and classes he was running behind on; who made sure that Miles heard what he needed to hear to get things done; who made sure he ate at least twice a day and didn't pass out from exhaustion in the middle of some street with traffic or on the subway; who way more often than he could count, picked Miles up off of their apartment's sofa in the middle of the night or early morning and tucked him into his bed like he was five years old and still taller than him)**_ _and kept him sane more than anyone he knew.  
  
“Not that I don't wish I could've been there,” he continued, edging his very uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bed and using both his callused hands to grip Ganke's bicep and wrist __**(his thumb and middle finger could go all the way around the appendage and touch quite comfortably—almost scaring Miles with the realization that Ganke was losing an awful lot of baby fat and maybe not for the best reasons since the high point of his exercise was chasing down Miles when Spider-Man was in a huge fight with one of his villains based on the news instead of something more reliable when he was in a panic, or running to get to a special he'd seen about Legos he needed to complete the six foot tall model of The Queen Elizabeth II cruise ship he was trying to finish before the end of the year for whatever)**_ _and then touch his forehead to the side of his friend's head, “Those girls that called the police were really glad you were there. And they were incredibly hot—you might actually get lucky when you get out of here next week.”  
  
Which truly was miraculous. Given the gun that shot off and the bullet that went right through Ganke, the doctor's said he was lucky to even be breathing. The bullet having just missed anything and everything of vital importance and barely scraping a shoulder bone; he really only needed to stay in the hospital because of tissue damage that the doctors needed to sew up a few more times and add on some grafts of skin taken from somewhere else __**(possibly Ganke's ass)**_ _._  
  
“If I let you out of my sight after this, I mean,” he added quietly, probably to himself more than Ganke.

* * *

  
  
_Forward_ ~  
  
Excitement can be a slow building explosive. Like a piece of dynamite that has an extra long, extra thick cord. But once it ignites, there's no stopping the impact.  
  
' _...Oh. Oh, no.'_  
  
Panic is not slow. It is automatic. It allows for survival of the fittest.  
  
Sadly, it does no good at the moment. He can't really run away now; Miles is taller and stronger and blocking the door and giving him this look that is making the situation incredibly unbearable.  
  
Honest to God, he was just really excited about actually winning something. Kissing someone seemed like the way to go and Miles was the only other person in the room--  
  
Maybe now was the time to start explaining, laugh the awkward off as a joke, as THE THING TO DO, because he could pay off their rent for the month and now they could blow their paychecks on whatever and...  
  
And... And...  
  
Miles set the pizza down on the kitchen island with a blank face, but when he looked back at his best friend (who, hey, ha ha, had _kissed_ him on the mouth in his excitement—there should be anger or something here) his brows were raised and his mouth was a solid line of seriousness that made him look almost exactly like his father. Which scared Ganke more.  
  
But his eyes weren't dark inside or crinkled at the edges, they were more... it made him look like his mom when she was pretending at something.  
  
Still, Ganke held up the chest with both hands at mouth level, like a crappy human shield that was never going to work, but, hey, he could pretend.  
  
Maybe Miles wouldn't kill him from the Friendzone if he got on his knees and begged for his li--  
  
Hands much bigger than his own tucked into Ganke's front jean pockets and thumbs twined around the belt loops closest to them and yanked hard so Ganke dropped the check to brace against his best friend instead of accidentally bowling them both over from momentum while Miles—Miles, um... huh.  
  
Miles returned the excitement. And he was _WAY_ better at it than Ganke was.  
  
When they parted after a solid twenty seconds of curious moisture and warm touching and—Oh sweet god—a little bit of tongue, Ganke had his hands resting hips that suited Miles fantastically and Miles gave him a butterfly kiss on the side of his mouth.  
  
“Been wonderin' when you were gonna do that for a while now.”  
  
Ganke didn't question and he didn't say anything to that _(how was he supposed to know that he should make the first move—he was the best friend and Miles was getting over Kate dumping him and there didn't seem to be a right time when Spider-man had to take off each day between work and school and sleeping)_ verbally, but he did grin so wide it pretty much hurt some muscles in his cheeks that didn't get enough exercise lately and he did make a noise in the back of his throat like a tea kettle boiling hot with steam, so Miles just let the moment wash over the both of them.  
  
He also let Ganke pick him up in a bear hug and spin him a few times around the kitchen and living room.


End file.
